


A Dark Night of the Soul

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [34]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya quickly realizes that he's been set-up, but that the trap isn't for him, but for Senbonzakura.  When everything gets out of control at the prison, all the captains, including Renji, get called in to help....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dark Night of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned, some of what follows could be very triggering.

“It’s over. Surrender,” the warden hissed. Her hands clawing at the air desperately, “Hand over Senbonzakura immediately.”

Something about the way she always used Senbonzakura’s name so intimately bothered Byakuya. It always had. It was far more grating than hearing his own name without a single honorific.

As he continued to hesitate, despite her decree, he heard her muttering, “Senbonzakura, Senbonzakura,” like a prayer.

That’s when Byakuya knew this whole thing had been a trap. She’d sacrificed her own subordinates in order to make it happen.

But, the trap was laid, not for him, but for Senbonzakura.

Somehow the warden had known Senbonzakura would come, Byakuya was sure of it. But how could she have known the zanpakutō would appear, when he barely understood how it was even possible himself? He turned the blade over in his hands, feeling the solid, familiar weight of it in his palm. Real. Solid. Yet… 

_It’s as though I’ve conjured you_ , Byakuya thought, _out of thin air, out of nothing_.

_Not nothing_ , Senbonzakura’s thousand voices sang in harmony. _We have been with you from the beginning, and we are that which will remain when all else is lost._

“Hand them over!” the warden screeched, sounding desperate.

Byakuya glanced up, expecting her to have unsheathed a weapon of her own, ready to threaten him somehow--even though she was a mere Third Seat and he a captain. She had none, but there was something wrong with one of her eyes. The cornea had gone dark and the iris seemed to glow with an unearthly yellow light. 

Byakuya had seen this sort of thing before, when Ichigo Kurosaki transformed into the mask-wearing maniac. But that was impossible. The Vizards were a known quantity; Ichigo their only exception. 

The warden must have sensed her transformation because she reached up a hand to shield the blackened eye from view. As she did so, her uniform shifted. The movement of the fabric revealed a concave depression just under her left breast.

A Hollow’s hole?

What was this woman? 

“Give them to us,” she snarled again, clearly trying to wrestle some control over her aching desire. “Senbonzakura.”

Could it be? Could she have been separated from her own zanpakuto, and was slowly... devolving, somehow? Unraveling into a hybrid shinigami/Hollow? But, no, even Aizen’s Arrancar weren’t separated from their zanpakutō, that would be too cruel a method for even such a monster as Sousuke Aizen... yet, Byakuya couldn’t imagine what else might cause a healthy shinigami to slowly die like this, to Hollowfy. 

“My Senbonzakura is no replacement for what you’ve lost,” Byakuya said, testing out his theory. “They will not answer to you.”

Something about what Byakuya said made her gasp, as though in pain. With her free hand, she hugged herself, her fingers caressing the depression--for, yes, that was all it was, a sunken spot, not yet a fully formed hole. “No one answers when I call,” she whispered. “Lost… lost.”

“Lost?” Byakuya repeated, curious. “You’ve lost your zanpakutō?”

The warden seemed close to tears, but she choked them back angrily. “Just give me yours.” She was shaking her head, as though in response to some internal dialogue Byakuya couldn’t hear. “It happens,” she hissed, “Captain Tousen took his and it gave him bankai. Someone else’s could fill my hole.”

_Could_ , Byakuya thought, _but not while I yet live_.

_Never_ , Senbonzakura sang.

“I refuse,” Byakuya said firmly. “I refuse to surrender to your trumped up charges, and I refuse to surrender Senbonzakura to you now, or ever.”

Her anger made her voice quaver, like a tightly pulled wire. “Guards! Take this man down!”

Byakuya tensed, watching the shadows, ready, if needs must, to add to the death toll.

But no one came.

The warden glanced around, confused. She shouted for her subordinates again, “Guards!”

Something in the shadows shifted finally. Byakuya stepped into a fighting stance, drawing Senbonzakura. Instead of guards, what materialized out of the darkness were white uniforms. 

White. 

The color of the prisoners’ uniforms.

Ten popped up from between several of the prisoners and said, “Actually, Hanatori, I think it’s you who should surrender.”

#

Renji couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness that had come over him. As soon as he could, he excused himself from Shinobu’s company. As he walked past the door to the master suite, he paused. In the air, there was the lingering scent of sweetgrass. The smell instantly triggered the sensation of kinbaku ropes, tightly suspending him, spreading him open, pressing in all the right spots, and the agony of waiting on Byakuya’s pleasure.

Arousal spiked through Renji’s body.

_Fucking three weeks_ , he thought, trying to will down the erection starting to grow. _I’m going to die from…_ Renji’s mind fumbled around for the right words, but gave up and just went with... _unspent hotness_.

And now Auntie Doom was on her way.

What Renji really wanted to do was climb in between the sheets that smelled of Byakuya and maybe self-relieve a bit of this tension. But, if Aunt Masama showed up tomorrow to discover Renji all tangled up in Byakuya’s sheets without him…. well, he could only imagine the carnage.

With a sigh, Renji took his hand from the door and walked on--back to his own lonely, tiny cot.

Once outside, he paused in the frost-laced garden to stare up at the moon. He reached up, trying to grasp it. _Yet, I touched you_ , he thought to himself. _Brought you down to my level, if only briefly… though maybe, it was you who raised me up_. 

Letting his hand drop with a sigh, Renji sent up a prayer. _I sure hope you’re okay, lover._

Despite the late hour, Renji decided the only way he had any chance of getting sleep tonight was if he worked off some of his excess energy. Instead of turning toward bed, he headed for the training ground.

#

Despite the sense of relief that washed over Byakuya, he didn’t let his guard down. After all, he had no idea what this was--A coup? A riot? A prison break?--and whether or not, as a standing captain in the Gotei, he should support it.

Besides, it seemed obvious to Byakuya that Ten must have known something about the warden’s plans. After all, he’d disappeared just at the right time. Moreover, it would have been impossible for him to go around releasing the gates on everyone’s cells if the guards had not been otherwise occupied. Ten must have contrived to steal the kidō key ahead of time, as it was usually quite heavily guarded. Then again, it was possible that, given Ten’s special trades, he’d bought someone off. 

Regardless, Byakuya doubted this whole scene was completely down to pure chance.

As several of the inmates grabbed the warden by the arms, she screamed the question that was foremost in Byakuya’s mind as well: “What are you doing?”

“We’re taking over,” Ten explained.

“You fools! You’ll never escape! The Gotei will stop at nothing to hunt you down,” she protested. Ten waved Byakuya out of their cell. Cautiously, he obeyed, keeping Senbonzakura at the ready. Once he’d stepped out over the threshold, the inmates holding the warden gave her a shove inside. Ten slid the bars closed and used the kido key to lock it. 

Watching him, Byakuya could feel a surge of reiatsu. “You still have kidō,” he noted.

“And you seem to have a weapon, so I guess we’re both full of surprises,” Ten smiled. 

Byakuya glanced at the gathered inmates. Despite the mild violence of tossing the warden behind bars, everyone seemed surprisingly calm and orderly. “What’s your plan?”

Ten stuck his hands in the pockets of his white hakama and leaned his back against the wall near the cell. The warden lay on the floor, surrounded by the corpses of the guards Byakuya had killed, and seemed to be sobbing. “Well,” Ten said, casually, “There’re actually several plans. The traitors have voted to make an escape. I think that’s stupid, but they’re united for once, so… to each their own.”

“They won’t get far,” Byakuya said, as he sheathed Senbonzakura. Sliding the zanpakutō into place at his hip, he added, “If they can somehow penetrate the remaining defenses, they’re surrounded by the Second Division’s ninja.”

“Exactly,” Ten smiled. His brown curls mostly covered his eyes, but, even in the semi-darkness, Byakuya could see the twinkle in them. “The rest of us are staying, albeit for different reasons. The insane… well, what’s-his-name, that leader of your group, Miyamoto, said something about the laundry room and unguarded chemicals, and I think Tado is off on a killing spree… But, the deserters and I are hanging around because we plan to stage a protest.” 

Byakuya, who normally hated repetition of any kind, was so stunned he could only ask: “A protest?”

Adachi, with his distinctive snakeskin facial tattoo, nodded. His eyes were drawn to Senbonzakura, with a longing not unlike the warden’s. But, he seemed better able to pull himself together. With a breath and a cross of his arms in front of his chest, he said, “We have a few demands. Better food, for one.” With a glance at his warrior-priest second in command, he added, “A process for appeal, for another. Though I doubt they’ll give us the second one, we have to try. Our cry for justice needs to be on record, if nothing else.”

“It will be,” Byakuya said, thinking of the Kuchiki archives, and some of the secret histories it contained.

Ten glanced at Byakuya in a way that made Byakuya hyper-aware of the fact that he was still covered in blood and gore. “So, Kuchiki, what are your plans?”

“I thought I’d take a shower.”

Ten laughed. “Good plan.”

Adachi smiled slightly in agreement. “When you finish, you should join us in the mess. We plan to hold our sit-in there.”

Byakuya nodded, but he had no plan to join them in the mess hall. He was far too familiar with Gotei justice to trust that even the most peaceful protest would end well. At the very least, their rebellion would be added to their sentences. Byakuya could not afford to spend any extra time in prison. 

More likely, they’d all be slaughtered. And if he were there, Senbonzakura at his hip, it would be the presence of a weapon that would be the excuse.

Better to wait things out in one of the solitary confinement cells. As it turned out, Byakuya knew one that already had his name on it.

#

Renji had almost exhausted himself when the tenteikūra appeared. Ōmaeda’s voice rang out in surprisingly commanding tones: “All available captains are requested to provide support for the Second Division. We have reports of a possible prison break. I repeat, there is a possible break at the Maggot’s Nest.”

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” Renji muttered. Probably he should recuse himself, but he was already flash stepping in the direction of the Second. Better, he figured, to show up and be asked to step down, then not show at all. With a frustrated glance at the moon he muttered, “You suck. That’s the last time I’m praying to you.”

Renji touched down at the Second Division two steps behind Kenpachi. 

Zaraki must have been at the bath, because his hair wasn’t its usual demon-crown of bell-topped spikes, and he was shouldering into his tattered, sleeveless haori. He nodded to Renji and glanced around the darkened grounds of the Second. “I wonder if it’s just you and me.”

Statistically, that seemed unlikely. At least a third of the captains should be pulling night shifts. As if on cue, Unohana appeared beside them at the foot of the stairs. Seeing Kenpachi, she ducked her head, as if hiding a secret smile. “I see you managed to find your way to the battle for once.”

“Heh,” Kenpachi snorted. After giving Unohana a long, disdainful glare, he turned his back to her, “So, maybe it’s just you and me as fighting captains, eh, Abarai?”

If Unohana was insulted, she hid it well. But, it still made Renji deeply uncomfortable to be between these two for some reason. He’d never understood the obvious, unspoken rivalry or why it made him so deeply… uneasy. “Uh,” Renji said, “actually, they might not let me engage, erm, because of... entanglements.”

Kenpachi gave Renji a disappointed scowl and a tisk of his tongue as he straightened his haori. “Oh, for fuck sake, Abarai! Just tell ‘em you’ve already gone bankai on your boyfriend once and you’ll do it again.”

“Yes, sir!” Renji said automatically. Turned out, fifty years in the Eleventh wasn’t an easy thing to shake. He didn’t even blush at Kenpachi’s casual ‘boyfriend’ remark. Instead, he fell into step behind Kenpachi as they headed up the stairs.

A few of Soi Fon’s regular soldiers seemed to be milling about in the clearing in front of the Second Division’s entrance. In the distance, lantern lights danced among the pine trees as people searched the grounds. Kenpachi shouted out, “Who’s in charge here? Because me and Abarai need clearance to get down to wherever the riot is.”

“Uh…” Renji started again, but then he just shut his mouth, because, even if you weren’t Sixth Seat anymore, you didn’t argue with Kenpachi Zaraki.

Hirako Shinji arrived from the west, looking annoyingly put together, like somehow he’d just come from the hair salon. “Did I miss the fun?”

“Make that me, Abarai, and the Vizard,” Kenpachi bellowed. Then, he let out a chuckle. “I hope these morons aren’t complete pushovers, because I got me a winning team.”

#

In the semi-darkness, the showers were creepy enough that Byakuya elected to bring Senbonzakura all the way inside. He propped the zanpakutō against the wall just outside of the reach of the spray, but within an easy grasp. The ill-fitting, borrowed shihakushō had gone down the laundry shoot the moment Byakuya noticed piles of white prison uniforms to choose from. When things settled down, he would request a replacement shihakushō. Of course, when things settled down, he’d be forced to give up Senbonzakura, as well.

But, he’d think about that later.

Turning the nozzle, Byakuya stood underneath the weak spray, letting the lukewarm water sluice over his body. It was a shame, he thought, that he would not be joining the others. Otherwise, he’d be sure to add decent water pressure and a new water heater to their list of demands. Better quality soap, too, he mentally added, as he picked up the chalky bar from its holder.

Closing his eyes, Byakuya went through the motions. Each area of his body got a careful scrub and rinse. Light off, eyes closed, he didn’t need to see the swirl of water at the drain turning red with the blood of his opponents.

_More bodies for the graveyard of my minds cape_ , he thought. _My legacy of ruthlessness_.

Lost in such thoughts, Byakuya almost didn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him. The second he registered the slap of a wet footfall, Byakuya spun into flash step. In high speed he grabbed and unsheathed Senbonzakura, pointing the drawn blade at…

Tado…?

Indeed. Grinning manically and standing in the middle of the shower room stark naked with a hard erection was the redhaired giant known as the Kenpachi of the Maggot’s Nest. He chuckled lowly, “Ain’t you never heard stories about prison showers, Kuchiki?”

Oddly, he’d read a yaoi manga that had featured just such a scene not terribly long ago. However, that wasn’t something he planned to share with Tado. “Have you no better sense than to attack an armed man?”

“That little toy ain’t going to stop me,” Tado chuckled stepping forward, pressing the tip of Senbonzakura into his chest. The moment skin broke, he jumped back. “What the fuck? That’s a live blade!”

To be fair to the giant, it was dark. Byakuya supposed it was possible not to recognize the gleam of the sharp edge in the pitch blackness. But surely, he must have heard the blade being drawn. “How long has it been since you’ve heard the ring of steel?”

Tonight, apparently, was Byakuya’s night to trigger everyone’s deepest, darkest pain. With a roar, Tado charged him.

#

It was a nightmare duty. Soi Fon had broken up Kenpachi’s “dream team,” and given each of them a possible exit to guard. The orders were simple: cut down anyone that came out. 

Kenpachi had flat out refused, saying that if he wanted to shoot fish in a barrel he could do shit like that anywhere. He added that if she interrupted his bath for something so boring ever again he looked forward to ramming Suzumebachi into her unmentionable places. Renji had walked off before he heard Soi Fon’s reply, but he was sure she wasn’t going to take an insult like that without some kind of response. Probably Kenpachi was going to get an interesting fight after all, but it wasn’t going to do much to help the escapee issue.

So, Unohana, Shinji, and he all took up posts at the places that the Detention Unit Corps of the Onmitsukidō had identified as potential breakout points. 

His was a lonely little spot on a narrow ledge of a cliff face hidden underneath the shadow of the long, narrow bridge that led to the main entrance to the prison facility. The ledge was only just wide enough for him to stand comfortably, Zabimaru released and at the ready, slung over his shoulder. The detention unit officer had said that if anyone came this way, they’d probably be digging their way out and pointed to a tiny crack, barely visible among the stones. When Renji had asked why, if they knew about it, they hadn’t just plugged up this hole, the detention officer had shrugged and said, ‘We can’t cut off all their air. It’s a natural vent for the cave system.”

The wind whistled around the cliff’s barren edges, pulling at Renji’s topknot and rustling his hems. With the bridge overhead, not even much moonlight penetrated, leaving him in nearly complete darkness.

_It’d be the best spot to breakout of; it’s completely sheltered and hidden_ , Renji thought. _Please fucking gods don’t let them come this way._

Of course, with his luck, not only would they, but Byakuya would be the first out. 

No, Byakuya wouldn’t try to break out. Mr. Law-and-Order was probably in there right now, trying to arrest anyone who even suggested it. He was probably subduing all the baddies with his ass-kicking hakuda. Maybe, once the Detention Corps reached the inner cells, they’d find Byakuya there keeping order, and give him a ‘get out of jail free’ card on the spot for his exemplary behavior.

Heh, if only. It was a nice fantasy, anyway.

The wind carried with it the distant sounds of clashing swords, but Renji was pretty sure that was just Kenpachi and Soi Fon duking it out. It’d be an interesting fight to watch, especially given Soi Fon’s heavy use of shunpo and stealth methods Kenpachi would find so very unsportsmanlike. 

Renji just hoped Soi Fon would stop short of killing him.

Or vice versa.

Because despite what he claimed, Kenpachi used both shunpo and kidō. Although Kenpachi swore he couldn't, Renji had noticed that when faced with a faster opponent, Kenpachi just naturally sped up. Without even thinking twice, he’d keep up and end up smashing down his blows at shunpo speeds. Same with kidō. He’d defend those attacks without really thinking about it, too. Sure, Kenpachi would tell his opponents that it was just his naturally hard skin that repelled magical blasts, but Renji had seen something on the battlefield that had made him figure it was something more. Once, when Kenpachi had been deep in it, Renji would have sworn he saw a kind of ghostly after image surrounding Kenpachi that looked like a kind of glowing, kidō death head, a skull.

Maybe it was just Yachiru protecting him, but whatever it was, it kept Kenpachi from falling victim to kidō attacks.

Anything to stay in the fight.

In the honorable fight, anyway. Renji had to respect his former captain for just telling Soi Fon she could shove this ugly-ass assignment up her lady parts. Cutting down unarmed men? This shit was worthy of Aizen.

But someone had to do it.

Better him than someone else.

That thought had been what had kept Renji going in those early days when Aizen or Ichimaru had sent him out on shit missions in the Rukongai. Refusing ugly jobs didn’t make them go away. It just meant someone else had to pick up your slack. What was Renji going to do, let someone like Momo or Kira carry a burden like that? 

No.

Besides, look at the shape of his soul. His was the one made for killing, for chewing up enemies and spitting them out.

So, if someone came this way, they would die. Zabimaru would have a demon’s feast on their bones and their blood. At least, standing here, Renji could comfort himself that these were men that likely deserved to die on some level, murderers and thieves and gods knew what else. 

Renji couldn’t allow himself to think too hard about the flaws in the Gotei justice system. He just had to do his job.

And hope to fuck no one came this way, after all.

#

Somehow, even though Byakuya’s grip never faltered, Tado tackled him. They fell backward together, Byakuya only barely managing to keep his head from smacking hard into the slick, tile floor. Meaty hands gripped his shoulders and tangled in a fistful of his hair, snagging and pulling. Hot breath huffed on his neck, the scent of male musk filled his nose as the giant’s naked body pressed down on him, smothering him, making it hard to breathe.

Especially with a stranger’s hard cock stiffly pressing between his thighs. 

Suddenly, Byakuya felt very young and small and vulnerable. Panic swelled up in such a rush, threatening to black out his vision. The only thing that kept him from losing his ability to think was the fact that his hands still gripped Senbonzakura’s tsuka. Tado’s chest was flush with the guard. He’d run himself through.

He did not, however, yet realize he was dead.

When Tado began to thrust into the space between Byakuya’s legs, Byakuya managed to summon enough willpower to twist the blade.

A hot burst of blood gushed out. Tado made moans that could be pain or pleasure. A shudder, the death rattle, shook his body.

Disgustingly, he came as he died.

Now that he was alone, Byakuya allowed himself a gasping whimper and the complete panicked indignity of frantic wiggling out from under the corpse. Byakuya’s whole body shook with shock and he could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. With effort, he crawled back under the shower spray and let the patter of the cold water on his skin, center and calm him.

At silent command, Senbonzakura scattered and resealed beside him. Byakuya grasped the sheathed blade in both hands, holding it tightly, and bowed his head, fighting back tears. He hated this weakness…. something he thought he’d banished from himself when he’d destroyed that man with Senkei.

Byakuya had no idea how long he knelt there, shaking in the darkness. His stomach cramped and he vomited over and over until he had nothing left inside.

Eventually, he felt emptied and was able to stand and clean himself off. Though he did everything one handed, as he refused to let go of the comforting presence of Senbonzakura. 

He dressed himself this way as well, having walked over the twitching corpse of Tado. Calmer now, he let out a breath, considering the irony that he could now consider himself the Kenpachi of the Maggot’s Nest.

White seemed appropriate, too. He felt like a ghost, empty and drifting, as he made his way to the solitary confinement cell. As he shut himself up and locked himself away, he thought: Yes. Behind all the walls, I am safe.

#

Renji stood guard for so long he started to think that for once his prayers had been answered, and that he’d end up with a quiet, uneventful night. 

Of course, that’s when he heard the sound of scrabbling.

_Fuck_ , he thought, hefting Zabimaru from his shoulder. Stepping back, he released the whipping blade and let it clang hard against the rock face. “Oi,” he shouted. “Turn back. You ain’t getting out this way.”

The silence seemed thoughtful.

Then, without warning, the rock face exploded outward in a brilliant fireball.


End file.
